Walking the dogs is always a bit of chaos and poetry. Watching them move, it’s like their energy becomes one with the world around them—wild, free, and untamed. As they leap and tumble, they leave behind traces of themselves, like fleeting shadows etched in motion. This drawing captures that moment perfectly. The charcoal feels alive, smudging and blending like the blur of paws kicking up dirt, the snap of teeth mid-play, or the wag of a tail slicing through the air.

There’s something primal here—pure instinct and joy. You can’t tell where one dog ends and the other begins, their forms melting into each other in the way only movement can. That’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? The mess, the energy, the unspoken understanding between them. It’s not just dogs playing; it’s life spilling out in its rawest, most unfiltered form.